The Southern Trail (Book 4) (39 page)

He felt Grace’s hands tighten their grip on his unconsciously in reaction.

“Ellersbine hasn’t mentioned sorcery,” Mersby said carefully.

“She’s seen very little of it,” Marco answered.  “I try not to show it off.  But she knows about it; I’m using it to keep her alive,” he paused to look at the strung-out line of energy that only he and his beloved could see.

“When I rescued her, she was dying.  She had been badly mistreated.  Healing her wasn’t enough,” Marco explained in a desperate voice as he recollected the horror of the princess’s state.  “I had to use sorcery to keep her alive, and it continues to work to this day.

“If I use a great deal of my energy for anything else, it will diminish the energy I share with her, and she’ll suffer,” he added.

“Are you saying your heart is beating for her heart?” Grace asked as their carriage rolled down the street.

“It is,” Marco nodded

“Are you a strong sorcerer?” Mersby asked after he digested the implications of Marco’s story.  “Apparently you are?”

“I think I am.  I don’t really know many other sorcerers to compare myself with,” Marco answered.

“There used to be four great sorcerers at the king’s court: Iago, Iamblichus, Ilario, and Itterati.  They did amazing things for the king, delivered powers to the king, delved into the darkness for the king, and went out to fight for him as well.  They were unstoppable, and the source of terror for anyone and everyone in the court,” Mersby spoke.  “And they lived for decades after decades, just as the king did, following and leading his search for eternal life.

“Word came back nearly two years ago that Iago had died; had been impossibly, accidentally killed in battle while he searched for the ingredients that would give the king eternal life.  The king was badly shaken, and he was angry,” Mersby continued telling his story, as Marco momentarily cringed, knowing that it was a part of his own story the prince was telling.

“Don’t worry dear,” Grace squeezed his hands as she felt him tremble.

“Iamblichus told the king that he would pick up the mantle that Iago had carried, and he went north, to conquer the far northern realms where an old empire had once been strong.  He went to conquer and avenge, and then to complete the task that Iago had begun.  But you knew part of that, since you were in his first conquest, Athens, the city from which Iamblichus planned to launch his great campaign.

“Except, as you know, something went wrong.  The northern barbarians were more united that our forces had thought, and they had sorcery powers of their own that were far stronger than Iamblichus expected.  He had thought that he had eradicated – assassinated – the only great sorceress the northerners had,” Mersby was telling the tale that Marco knew so well, from a different perspective.

“The sorceress came back from the dead, and she or an ally somehow managed to kill Iamblichus.  She came back from the dead!  When the king heard that, I think he had more interest in her than he did in the loss of mighty Iamblichus, whose death we never learned much about.”

“His head chopped off as he flew through the air,” Marco said softly, remembering the horrific scene, one where he thought he was going to die, more terrifying than any experience he had ever known other that the confrontation with Echidna.

“What did you say?  He was beheaded?  How do you know?” Mersby asked.

“I was there; I saw it.  I was in that part of Athens, near a fountain in a plaza in the city when it happened,” Marco could tell that much without giving anything away.  “He was strong and powerful and gave all the soldiers confidence until a man with a sword jumped and chopped his head off, and then all the Docleateans lost hope.”

“I have no doubt of that,” Mersby commented.

“And so now only Itterati is left as the king’s great sorcerer at court; Ilario is away in some distant land the king sent him to.  There are a dozen small ones, weak ones, those who can create a small spell here or there in some minor way,” the carriage was rolling up to the home where Ellersbine and her cousins were staying.

“And the king would be thrilled to gain a new sorcerer who has powers.  He won’t let Itterati leave the court, but he needs someone to send out to continue his search for eternal life, or for the power to come back from the dead, as the northern sorceress did.  As a great warrior, a man with enchanted powers, and a sorcerer to boot, you could become a great favorite of the king,” Mersby said.

The girls were disembarking from the other carriage.

“I suppose you’d like to spend time with the ladies, wouldn’t you?” Grace asked kindly.

The spell of Mersby’s riveting tale was broken.  “I would like to see her, I mean them,” Marco agreed.

“Go on, go join them,” Mersby said.  “We’ll talk to a few people on our way home, and we’ll expect to see you there this evening for dinner – shall we?”

“I’ll be there,” Marco answered, as he opened the door.   “Thank you for today,” he told his hosts, and then he leaped free from the carriage and joined the other young people who were gathered together by the front steps, watching as their carriage rolled away.

Marco stepped over next to Ellersbine, and he placed his arm around her shoulder, hugging her tightly, desperate to feel the warmth of her love after feeling and remembering the fear of the two sorcerers he had killed.

“What’s wrong, Marco?” Ellersbine asked, sensing his troubled soul, the fear traveling across their shared energy.

“Nothing, now that I’m with you,” he answered tightly.

Chapter 31

The next morning, Mersby asked Marco to join him in his study after breakfast.

“We are going to go to the palace today,” the prince told Marco, whose eyes widened.

“What shall we do?” the newcomer to the city asked.

“We are going to go visit the palace steward, to mention both your upcoming award, and your special abilities, and then we will offer to demonstrate your services to the staff members he chooses,” Mersby said.  “Why don’t you go put on your best clothes and we’ll go to the palace for the day.”

“I’ll do that sir,” Marco answered.  He ran to his room, and pulled out the best of the clothes that Fara had ordered for him, penned a hasty note to Ellersbine explaining that he wouldn’t be coming to see her that day, then hurried back to the front hall.  He asked the steward to have the message sent on his behalf, before he was out the door and in the carriage where Prince Mersby was waiting.

“A sorcerer, an enchantment, a warrior – Marco, you will be a much better spouse for Ellersbine than Argen,” the prince spoke as they rode.  “As a matter of fact, roles may become reversed and we may ask you to assist the future fortunes of our daughters!” he smiled gently, trying to ease the nervousness that Marco felt.

They rode for several minutes before their carriage stopped at the palace gate, and a moment later a guard looked in the window discretely, then let the vehicle pass through.  Marco stared out the window at the majestic, deep black structures that they passed.  The statues were black, the walls of the buildings they passed were black, and even the crushed stone drives were black.

“Take off your gloves,” Mersby said as the carriage rolled to a stop shortly thereafter.

“But?” Marco looked at him.

“The golden hue of your skin will stand out, especially inside the palace.  I should have realized that before.  We want to play up your uniqueness, and the gold will lead to questions which will lead to acknowledging your strengths,” Mersby explained.  He waited a second more, then began to climb out the door as the coachman held it open, while Marco hastily stripped his gloves off and followed him out.

The carriage had stopped at an impressive entrance to the vast palace building.  “Sorry that we’re only using the side entrance, but since we aren’t here for a royal engagement, we aren’t entitled to the honor of the front,” Mersby pointlessly apologized to Marco, who was impressed nonetheless by the obsidian, black steel, and dark wood that formed the entry they used.

The doorman held the door and they stepped into a tall, wide hallway, one that was also black, but lit by glowing lanterns that appeared to have no flames within their glass.

Marco looked at Mersby questioningly as they passed one, then stopped at the next one to peer within.

“That is an impressive display of what the lesser sorcerers in the palace can do.  Several of them go around all day lighting up such lanterns throughout the building,” the prince stopped and explained to Marco.  “Could you do that?”

Marco grinned despite his nervousness, then held up his right hand and made each finger independently blink on and off with a warmer glow than the lanterns emitted.

“Quite a boastful display,” a loud voice boomed nearby.

Marco whirled around, his fingers still glowing, and faced a very short man with a long, black beard, who wore a black cape and a strange, pillbox-like black hat.

“This is a young man who I have brought to visit you, my lord,” Mersby said in a friendly tone.

“Lord Gaddis, this is Marco.  Marco, this is Lord Gaddis the chief steward of the palace,” the prince introduced.

Marco extinguished the glow from his hand, then extended it and shook firmly with the small man.  Although his fingers were short, his grip was tight, Marco noted.

“Would you like to step into my office for a drink and a conversation?” Gaddis asked.  “I’m curious to know more about your young protégé.”

“That would be delightful,” Mersby replied.

They turned a corner, climbed a set of stairs, then entered an unusual room, unusual for the palace at least, one that had white walls and a window open to allow the entry of sunlight.

“Where did you find this extraordinary talent?” Gaddis asked.

“He was actually brought to me by my niece, Ellersbine, the daughter of my late brother, Ellersby,” Mersby explained.  “He and she grew quite attached to one another during their long journey home from the battle of Athens.”

Gaddis looked at Mersby and Marco with a perplexed look as he handed them glasses of water.

“A group of us who survived the battle of Athens marched all the way back to Foulata from Tripool.  It was the longest march an army column has ever made,” Marco explained.  “Or at least that’s what the army says.”

“Is this the journey that Count Argen said he made?” Gaddis asked.

Marco nodded his head.

“And Argen is engaged to your niece?” the steward asked Mersby.

“He was and perhaps is,” Mersby equivocated.

“So Argen, his fiancé Ellersbine, and this young man all walked all the way from Tripool to here together?” Gaddis clarified.

“Along with scores of others,” Marco added. 

“And now Princess Ellersbine is affectionate with this young man?” Gaddis understood part of what was happening.

“And rightly so,” Mersby said stoutly.  “Marco not only is a first class sorcerer, but he also has an enchantment upon him, plus he is a paramount warrior, recognized and honored by the leadership of the army.”

“And Argen happens to be less than enamored of the army leadership since he returned from his journey, from what I understand,” Gaddis mentioned.  “He doesn’t say much about the trip; just insinuates that he heroically survived.”

“That’s not surprising,” Marco muttered.

“We are not here to talk about Count Argen’s issues,” Mersby decided to redirect the conversation.  “We simply came here to introduce you to Marco, and to find out if he could assist the folks here in the palace with some of his talents.  Once certain matters are settled, I imagine he and Ellersbine will settle into Foulata as a welcome member of the royal family, so we want to engage him in the palace in as positive a manner as possible.

“For example,” Mersby continued, “he has an enchantment upon a finger on his left hand.  Anyone may sip on the finger, and water will emerge, and the water will help heal people: illness, wounds, pains – isn’t that correct, Marco?”

“That’s how it works,” Marco agreed.  “It’s not an instant healing, but it works overnight and within a few hours to start to bring relief.  I used it to help heal some of my comrades on the march after a battle, and after a couple of days of treatment they were on their way to healing.”

“That’s,” Gaddis paused, “an extraordinary claim,” he said doubtfully.  “How did you get this?”

“I visited a spring that turned out to be enchanted, and the spring shared the enchantment with me,” Marco answered.  “Can I demonstrate it for you?” he asked readily.

“No, not for me,” Gaddis responded.  “But perhaps later we can find some subjects for experimentation.”

“This is real, Gaddis,” Mersby spoke in a harder tone.  “This isn’t some foolish prank.  The boy can really do this.  Do you have staff that is ill, people who wait on the king who are missing their assignments because they are unwell?  Marco can truly cure them.  They get cured, they do their jobs better.  They do their jobs better, grandfather is happier.   Grandfather is happier because you and Marco did something, you’re happier.  It’s that simple.

“And we haven’t even begun to probe his sorcery abilities yet, but you saw the casual little demonstration he put on in the hallway downstairs.  I believe he may be one of the strongest you have left below Itterati.  Wouldn’t you like to present a new strong sorcerer to the king, especially one who can fight to protect himself, and who has been up in the northern civilization already?”

“That would be seen as positive, especially since the loss of Iamblichus,” Gaddis agreed.

“Well, since you seem eager to prove your healing powers, shall we take a stroll?”

They left his office, and Marco blinked as they stepped from the bright, airy room back into the dark hallways of the palace, and then followed a path that Gaddis seemed to know, but that seemed to be aimless meandering to Marco as they walked for twenty minutes to reach a door that left the palace structure.  They crossed a muddy delivery lane through which travelled the wagons that delivered the kitchen and household items and goods, and then entered a structure that was shabbily-built of dun-colored bricks.